Murder at the Miramar (Augusta Burnette Series)

by Dane McCaslin

  Brushing off a few pieces of ice that had clung to the paper, Detective Fischer carefully opened the envelope and tipped the letter out onto his lap. He peered into the envelope before laying it aside and taking up the piece of paper, reading it through at least twice before making eye contact with me again.

  ‘When did you get this?’ he asked, flapping the limp letter at me. ‘And from where, if I might ask?’ Of course he could ask. He was the police, after all.

  I stared back at him, my mind a sudden blank. Where had I gotten it? And when?

  My days and nights at the Miramar all seemed to run together in my mind, so much had happened in less than a week. I looked at Ellie for help, hoping she’d have better recall than I did at that moment.

  ‘Maria,’ she prompted me, reaching a soft hand over to mine and giving it a squeeze. ‘And Fernando. Remember?’

  And then I did, seeing clearly in my mind’s eye the look on Maria’s face when she handed me the letter, confessing to finding it in Emmy’s room. I hesitated, wondering how much I needed to share. I had made Maria a promise, after all, albeit tempered with a mental finger-crossing. I honestly didn’t want to get her in trouble; she had been honest enough to bring me the letter and frightened enough to beg anonymity. Still …

  I took a deep breath, more to steady my thoughts than my nerves. Looking Detective Fischer square in his dull blue eyes (dull in comparison to you-know-who’s pair of sparklers), I told him the entire tale, leaving nothing out, not even Maria’s clandestine visit to Emmy’s room. He listened attentively, stopping me occasionally to write something in his notepad, but otherwise focusing intently on my words. I began with my first horrific day on the job and ended with my experience in the darkened office.

  When I’d finished, Detective Fischer just sat quietly, as though trying to take in what I’d told him. I admit, it did sound a bit fantastic but, considering everything that had happened to me and to Ellie, I hoped he’d take the situation seriously. I certainly did, and I know that Ellie did as well – and she had the bumps and bruises to prove it.

  Shuffling his feet, Detective Fischer stood up. He gave me and Ellie a grim look, then said, ‘If I were you, I’d keep my door locked at all times, even if you’re just, say, running out for cookies.’ This was directed at me, and I blushed. Even the San Blanco PD knew about my addiction to sugar, apparently. Was nothing around here sacred?

  ‘I’ll be in touch. If you don’t mind, I need to keep this a while.’ Waggling the letter in the direction of the couch, he reached the door and opened it. ‘Lock this behind me.’ With that, he was gone.

  I obediently walked over and flipped the security latch and then hooked the safety chain back. Ellie was quiet for a change, and I was trying to understand what had just happened. The SBPD was on to some leads, that was clear, and Detective Fischer had listened to my tale without recrimination or comment. That pointed to progress, in my book. Maybe Ellie and I were on the right trail, after all.

  A gentle rumbling in my tummy reminded me that it had been a while since I’d eaten anything substantial, other than the odd cookie. I smiled, recalling the detective’s ‘cookie’ comment, then paused mid-thought. What he’d said, in no uncertain terms, was that the killer – the Miramar Murderer – was roaming the corridors of the resort. Not quite the amenity I’d had in mind when I’d taken the job, that was certain. And probably not what Miguel, Emmy, and the mystery man had anticipated, either.

  I needed to eat. I could not think on an empty stomach, and had no desire to join the rest of the curious faces in the Palmetto Room for dinner. I looked at Ellie. She lay back against the sofa, eyes closed and purple smudges under them adding up to a look of utter exhaustion. It would be room service, I decided, reaching for the phone to place an order. Of course, that meant someone else would have to walk the corridors of the resort, but hopefully they’d get our food to us before the killer discovered anyone out and about.

  The omelets and fresh fruit, delivered by a young man with a solemn face, were delicious. The spinach and mushroom filling, along with a combination of Swiss and sharp cheddar cheeses, made mine one of the best omelets I’d ever had. Ellie had cleaned her plate as well, I noted, happy that she had enough energy to eat at least. Coming from a family that believed in the sanctity of mealtimes, I was always pleased to see others enjoying their food. And, as long as we had room service, we could hide out in the Palo Verde suite until we left this place.

  Chapter Sixteen

  I guess my Big Plan was to hole up in the suite like two criminals on the lam, live off of food delivered to our door, and sneak out in the dead of night – or whenever the San Blanco PD said we could go. I was voting for soon, although another tête-à-tête with Detective Cutie Pie might make me hang around a bit longer.

  Leaving the tray out in the hall, I plumped myself back onto the couch. Ellie hadn’t moved except for a quick trip to the bathroom, and I was too wound up to relax much. What I really wanted to do, I thought with surprise, was to get out and see what was up. Maybe I’d spot someone walking around with a conventioneer’s name badge that would read, ‘Hello! My Name is the Miramar Killer!’ Huh. If only it were that easy. Of course, there’d be no need for detectives having to detect, and that would eliminate the chances of seeing a certain someone any time soon. Sigh. Such is life.

  I thoroughly intended for us to hit the hay at a decent hour. Ellie needed her rest and I did as well; the day’s events had tired me out more than I’d realized, although that was nothing compared to Ellie’s harrowing day. Still, the two of us were in the deficit column for sleep and needed to rectify that soon.

  We’d just made up our minds to begin our nightly rituals when the phone rang. Toothbrush in hand, I went to answer it, blithely singing out a greeting. I was met with silence, so once again I spoke.

  ‘This is AJ,’ I said, waving my toothbrush in the air like a wand.

  ‘You need to leave the Miramar. Now.’ The voice was low, muffled, as if whoever it was had placed their hand over the mouthpiece in an attempt at camouflage, and they made no attempt to sound pleasant.

  The dial tone after the pronouncement buzzed loudly in my ear as I stood, phone still in hand. If I didn’t have the creeps before, they were firmly in place now, skipping up and down my spine as though they owned the place. They wanted me to leave now? I wanted to leave yesterday. I’d had it with this place.

  Ellie appeared in the doorway to the bedroom, cold cream on her face and a look of concern in her eyes.

  ‘AJ? What’s up?’ She walked into the front room, her steps a little slower than her normally spritely gait.

  I still held the phone and looked at it as though it could give Ellie an answer. I had no words for her. I was heading from ‘scared’ towards ‘angry’ at a pretty fast clip, and it was all I could do not to throw it against the wall. A satisfying gesture, certainly, but I figured it wouldn’t really be too smart to start destroying the place. With gritted teeth, I replaced it calmly.

  ‘AJ?’ she asked again. She was beginning to sound more than a little alarmed. ‘Should I call someone?’ She looked around the room as though she’d find a detective or two hanging out, ready to jump to our aid.

  ‘Absolutely,’ I said, then stopped. Who would we call? The Miramar’s security team? I was fairly sure they were tired of all the AJ-centered drama already, although they’d probably do their job without comment. No, I didn’t want to bother them again.

  ‘Fernando,’ I said without thinking. The name surprised me as well, popping out the way it did. Maybe, subconsciously, I knew he’d have an answer or two for us.

  ‘OK,’ agreed Ellie, a tad doubtfully. I guess her idea of ‘someone’ to call didn’t include the resort’s valet.

  I moved to pick up the phone again, but the spread of cards on the table caught my eye. Ellie hadn’t bothered to put them away, but left them where she had laid them. The three cards she had flipped over still lay on top of the rest, their message sil
ent. Maybe, before we called anyone …

  ‘Ellie,’ I said suddenly, ‘what was it you were seeing before Detective Fischer stopped by? You never said.’

  She stood looking at me, her eyes somber and the bruises on her neck and face more pronounced than ever. Even the cold cream couldn’t cover them.

  ‘Are you sure you want to know?’ she asked, watching me carefully for my reaction.

  I laughed, but it sounded forced. ‘Of course, silly goose! I wouldn’t have asked if I hadn’t wanted to.’ I made as if to pick up the three top cards but she moved quickly, more quickly than I thought she could, grabbing my wrist tightly.

  ‘Don’t, AJ.’ Ellie sounded serious, and I looked at her in surprise. What in the world was wrong with touching a few pieces of cardboard with pictures on them?

  I said nothing, moving back to let her retrieve the cards. She stood motionless, staring at them one after the other, her lips moving slightly. Finally, she looked up.

  ‘Let me get this stuff off of my face first,’ she said, slipping the cards into the pocket of her robe and walking back toward the bathroom.

  I wandered into the kitchen, looking for something to snack on. I would not call for cookies and hot tea, although my body was screaming at me to just do it. Finding a few tea bags lying rejected in one of the drawers, I got out two mugs and filled them with water, intending to heat them up in the microwave.

  What made me hesitate was a noise. Not the soft shuffling sound of paper, like there’d been with Detective Fischer, nor the sound of muted footsteps in the carpeted corridor. Something – someone – was gently turning the doorknob. I stood frozen, wanting to scramble for the bedroom and Ellie, to grab my cellphone and call the police. Instead, I watched in fascination as the doorknob seemed to come alive, turning one way and then the other, each twist louder and more determined than the one before. If someone wanted to get rid of me – to scare me off – they should have just told me. With all the weird vibes at the Miramar, I would have happily packed up and out the door in a heartbeat.

  I shivered. The doors were not the sturdiest, in my opinion, and only a security lock and a wimpy safety chain – what a misnomer – were keeping them out. Making up my mind, I crept as quietly as I could over to the armchairs and picked one up, carrying it over so that it stood in front of the door. Thankfully, I had closed the drapes after we’d eaten, so at least no one could see in. The next step was to wedge the chair under the doorknob, but how I could do this without alerting them that I knew they were out there was beyond me.

  Ellie, face fresh from being washed free of the cold cream, watched me with consternation. She hadn’t heard the would-be intruder, so I probably looked like a nutcase to her. Making frantic signs with my hands, and mouthing the word ‘killer’ at her (dramatic, I know), I turned back to my present problem. I needed to get the door reinforced before I could call for help.

  A loud crashing sound made me jump back and both of us scream. They had given up on the doorknob and were now throwing something – a shoulder, maybe – against the door, the sound echoing down the corridor. They couldn’t possibly think that no one would hear them, could they?

  I abruptly recalled seeing an announcement earlier inviting resort guests to ‘Join us tonight on the beach for campfire, food, and fun!’ Great. There was probably no one left in the entire hotel, and no one to hear the racket of someone trying to break down our door. I looked over at Ellie, standing stock-still with a look of complete terror on her face. If we were going to make it through this, I needed her functioning, not comatose.

  ‘Ellie!’ I strode over to her, placing my hands on her shoulders and talking directly into her face. ‘Look at me! It’s OK! It’ll be fine, I promise. Just help me get this chair wedged under the doorknob, then use your cell to call for help.’

  She blinked once then gave herself a little shake as though awakening from a dream. Together we got the chair moved and turned on its side so that one chair leg fit snugly under the door knob. I was past caring if they heard us or not; in fact, I wanted them to know that we knew they were there and wouldn’t go down without a fight. Or without a chair or two as a barricade.

  Out of the blue, just as quickly as the din had started, it was gone. I hadn’t heard whoever it was walking away from the door, but they must have. I felt brave enough to peek out through a corner of the drapery, hunkered down on my knees below the windowsill. No one was there. As far as I could see to the left or right, the corridor was empty. Ellie and I were safe. For now.

  I grabbed for the phone, punching in 911 with shaking fingers. It seemed an eternity before I heard, ‘911, what’s your emergency?’

  ‘Someone just tried to break into our room at the Miramar Resort!’ I know I sounded hysterical, but how would you expect me to sound? I tried to focus as the emergency operator took down the information and assured me that help was on the way. Did I want her to remain on the line until the police arrived?

  ‘No, that’s OK,’ I answered, my fingers twisting through my hair the way I used to do when I was much younger and nervous about a test at school. Or whenever I needed to confess something to my parents, which was fairly often.

  Ellie and I huddled on the couch together for support. My teeth were chattering, something that I thought only happened in the movies, and my knees had a funny, jelly-like feel. I hoped I’d be able to stand up and walk to the door when the police arrived.

  ‘You know what, AJ?’ Ellie’s voice sounded much calmer than I was feeling. She always did have more stamina than I did. ‘I don’t think they were trying to break in.’

  I had no answer for her – I couldn’t make my mouth move. What in the world did she think had just happened? Of course someone was trying to break in!

  ‘I just think they were trying to frighten us off. Remember the phone call?’

  She did make sense, I had to admit. If they’d wanted to get in, a swift kick on the door to force open the safety chain would have done the trick.

  The faint sound of rapidly moving feet heading in our direction made us both sit up. Crap! I’d completely forgotten about the chair. I’d need to get that moved before anyone could get in, even the police.

  A knock on the door sent my heart into overdrive, but I managed to call out, ‘Hang on! I need to take the chair away.’ With a few tugs and pulls, I got the furniture shifted. Hopefully it was the San Blanco police on the other side.

  Otherwise, I’d just made it plenty easy for the Miramar Murderer to join us for tea.

  Chapter Seventeen

  I think it took Ellie and me at least three tries to explain what had happened to us, beginning with the threatening phone call.

  ‘Did you recognize the voice?’ The young officer taking our statements sat at the kitchen table while we huddled together on the sofa.

  ‘No, I didn’t, and I told Detective Fischer that earlier when he was here.’ Now that I’d semi-recovered from the shock, I was becoming irritated at having to repeat things I’d said only hours before. Didn’t these people ever read one another’s notes and reports?

  The officer just nodded his blond crew-cut as he continued writing, and I slid Ellie a sideways glance that said one more inane question and I’ll implode or something to that effect. I think she got the message.

  Standing gingerly to her feet, Ellie approached the table. ‘Officer Phillips?’ She ducked her head to read his badge. ‘My cousin and I have had a fairly difficult day.’ That was the understatement of the year, I thought. ‘Right now we could use something to drink so I need to call room service.’ The officer must’ve have given her a certain look, because she hastily added, ‘Just some hot tea, Officer. That’s all.’

  The officer nodded and turned to face me. ‘I have just a few more questions then I’ll get out of your hair, OK?’

  Either the kitchen staff had absolutely nothing else to do or they’d already heard about our little escapade and wanted the scoop, because within five minutes of Ellie’s call
we had a plateful of hot cookies and a steaming pot of tea. When I opened the door to a gentle knock, I was glad to see Maria again, especially since I’d been a little worried over the letter issue. If the killer knew I had the letter, surely he (or she) would realize who had given it to me.

  ‘Can you stay for a moment?’ I asked Maria, hoping she’d be able to read between the lines. I was counting on the officer’s promise that he’d be gone in a few minutes; then I could get down to business and talk to Maria about the letter.

  Thankfully, she caught the meaning. ‘Yes, I’d be happy to stay with you until you are done with your tea.’ She walked over to where Ellie stood in the small kitchen and gently pushed her toward the couch. ‘You go and sit, Miss Ellie. I can take care of this.’

  True to his word, Officer Phillips left after a few more questions (‘Did you get a look at their face?’ and so on) and exited the suite with a solemn reminder for us to relock the door behind him. I almost snorted. Did he really think that not locking it was an option for me?

  After making sure the door was totally secure and an armchair moved in front of it ‘just in case …’ (I didn’t finish the thought, not wanting to consider what the ‘in case’ might consist of), I sank to the floor near the coffee table and laid my head on my arms. I was tired to the bone and so weary of all the drama.

  Ellie sat on the couch with the forgotten cards in her hands, looking down at them as though she wasn’t really seeing them at all. I wondered what she had seen earlier, when she’d turned them over and then clammed up. Maybe it was time for her to share.

  ‘Ellie,’ I began, lifting my head to look her in the eyes, ‘I think it’s about time for you to explain the cards to us.’ I nodded at the cards, noting that one in particular she held on to tightly. ‘Start with that one, OK?’